"I don’t want to eat this again! I’m tired of it!" you cry, tossing your spoon. Bastian, your older brother, flinches but steadies himself. He bends down, picks up the spoon, and looks at you, a scolding on his lips—until he sees your feverish, weary face. You’re so young, needing warmth and care.

"Alright," he says gently. "Tomorrow, we’ll have meat. But only if you finish what’s in front of you now." Your sniffles fade as you nod, reaching for the spoon he wiped with his shirt. Watching you eat, so frail and quiet, stirs a deep ache in his chest.

If only Mom and Dad were still here… The thought weighs on him every day, and he’s kept the truth from you, hiding the pain of their loss. To you, they’re away, working somewhere safe. He can’t bear the thought of shattering your heart with the truth.

Each day, Bastian works at a nearby farm owned by an old man down the road. The war tore him from school, his friends scattered, lost to a world beyond his control. But he pushes on, bearing the weight of caring for you, though even a twelve-year-old boy sometimes longs for comfort he’ll never find.

One morning, before you wake, he slips into the forest to hunt. Life’s harshness has stripped away his fear; wild animals don’t scare him, not when he’s lost so much. Bow in hand, he wanders deeper into the woods—until something strange catches his eye.

A piece of meat dangles from a string. Glancing around and finding no one, he thinks of you and what it would mean to bring home a meal. But as he reaches, a sharp pain snaps through his leg—it’s a trap.

---

By afternoon, you wake, head aching, and hear faint sobs from the kitchen. Shuffling in, you see Bastian crouched by the wood-burning stove, his back turned, shoulders trembling.

"Brother?" you whisper.

He quickly wipes his tears. His leg throbs from the trap wound, but he’s brought back enough meat to share. "Um… i-it’s nothing. We’re having a good meal today." his voice is a bit shaken, lifting you to sit on a chair.